


A Dance for the King — Part III

by sporadic_obsession



Series: A Dance for the King - A Medieval SakuAtsu Story [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Belly Dancing, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadic_obsession/pseuds/sporadic_obsession
Summary: Six months after the twins’ arrival at the castle, Atsumu reminisces on his past.A part of it also happens to find him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: A Dance for the King - A Medieval SakuAtsu Story [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112663
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160





	A Dance for the King — Part III

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of being stuck with this AU inside my head.  
> Heed the warnings! There is explicit mention of attempted rape, and an explicit depiction of death. If you’d like to avoid this, skip from where it says “That won’t do.” and pick it back up again where it says “He pushes the man back (...)” for the non-con bit, and then again where it says “Atsumu considered it for a moment”, and pick it back up where it says “ The room is quiet as the King steps over the dying man at his feet (...)” for the death bit.  
> This one’s a bit heavier (‘cause I’m a terrible person) but hope you find some enjoyment from it anyway!  
> Kudos and comments appreciated, as always.

Atsumu enjoys summer.

He likes the heat beating down upon his skin, the way it darkens his complexion enough for freckles to make themselves known, and lightens his hair just a few shades to resemble simmering gold. His eyes always become brighter whenever summer rolls around, and he is always much livelier.

It’s a shame he has no one to share the liveliness with.

It’s been six months since he’s arrived at the castle, and Atsumu really can’t complain about his stay. Despite what he’d imagined, the King isn’t as demanding as he thought he would be. Yes, he enjoys sex, but then again so does Atsumu; not once has he been asked to do anything he doesn’t feel like, or that he’s uncomfortable with. He’s a mostly quiet man, their conversations rare but enlightening - even if only because Atsumu has learned how to read the King’s expressions.

He’s usually the one talking, always babbling about his brother or retelling a funny story from when he’s with his friends; the King doesn’t seem to mind, however. Even as he works at his desk, writing down documents Atsumu is sure he doesn’t want to understand the meaning of, he never tells him to keep quiet. It’s almost as if he enjoys the break in silence, humming whenever appropriate.

Atsumu is yet to figure out whether he actually listens to what he’s saying or not.

Usually, the dancer spends most of his days bothering his twin, whenever the King doesn’t ask for his presence. He follows Osamu in the kitchens, but doesn’t dare touch anything - out of the two, Osamu has always been the one best suited for cooking. When he’s not with Samu - and, by extension, Suna - he finds Bokuto or Hinata to keep him company, watching them train and even getting some exercise with them. There are a few more familiar faces amidst the guards that he bothers on occasion, but no one he feels comfortable enough to spend long stretches of time with.

Which is why he’s by himself, right now.

There’s a ball coming on in a few days, and the castle has been in an uproar. The kitchen staff has no time to breathe as they ready the meals ahead of time, the guards have all been called to work as the nobles have started to arrive. The King has been stuck greeting the newcomers for days, and by the time he lays in bed Atsumu is already on his third dream of the night, and that is that. The dancer, who has nothing to do except get ready to dance at the ball and look pretty doing it, has been bored beyond belief.

He’s mostly been moping in his room, admiring the new clothes that the King had tailored just for him, but he’s gotten tired of it by now.When he spotted the sun shining brightly outside, he only gave it a moment’s thought to his next action. Perusing through the many, many books bound inside King Sakusa’s shelves, he picked the one whose title he recognized; an old story his mother used to read to him and Osamu when they were children. He didn’t think to ask the man for permission to take it, but believes he won’t be in much trouble for it; he has every intention to return it safe and sound before the King even realizes it was gone.

Despite the fact he’s been a commoner all his life, Atsumu actually knows how to read, and so does his twin brother. Most people in town found that to be unbelievable, considering their living conditions, but Atsumu prides himself on it. Back when they were just two years old, his mother used to read to them at night, and come morning she’d sit them by a small table in their humble home and teach them the words they’d heard. They practiced writing on occasion, as well, but not to the same extent; it was much harder for them to get a hold of paper and ink, so reading was much easier for them to learn.

Atsumu smiles as he walks through the gardens with the book under his arm, reminiscing on the many mornings spent with his brother by his side, the two of them trying to compete to see who could learn to read faster. Their mother had stopped watching over their studying after they turned four and their father fell sick, having to take on the burden of providing for their family, but the two young twins continued to diligently learn as much as they could, hoping it would help them help their mother in the future.

Unfortunately, they never got to find out if they could.

Summer was beginning to fade when their mother collapsed. Atsumu remembers much too clearly what the wind felt like against his skin. The image of his mother telling Osamu that she was scared through broken sobs - though she never told him of what - is forever burned in his eyelids. A week after the twins turned twelve, they woke up to silence; they were staying at a neighbors’ house as the only medic in town tended to their mother. Not long after they woke, they were told that their mother had passed.

Ever since that day, Atsumu has been doing all he can to make sure he and Osamu have a decent life. It hasn’t been easy, having to provide for the two of them from such a young age, and there have been things Atsumu has done he doesn’t pride himself on, but he doesn’t regret any of it. If it means Osamu is now happy with Sunarin, eating his fill and sleeping comfortably, he’s fine with the way life has gone for him. Besides, he’s now finally getting the break he deserves, so he can’t dwell much on things he can’t change.

He should’ve known good things never last.

Atsumu has chosen a spot to spend his morning that’s just quiet enough to allow him to read with no distractions. He’s far from the people milling about the castle, the sun beaming down upon what is exposed of his skin. He’s wearing a beige tunic that falls down to his knees with nothing underneath, sleeveless and loose around him, because that’s the only piece of clothing he could find that wouldn’t make him overheat. As he settles down on the grass and leans his back against a tree, he can’t help smiling to himself.

He traces his fingertip over the title engraved on the leather that binds the book together. It’s well worn, he can tell by the creases in its spine, and he wonders if the King reads it often, or if it’s been passed down to him after others have done so. He’s just about to open the cover to the first page when he hears the call of his name.

“Miya? Miya Atsumu?” The voice sounds distant, but is loud enough to reach him; Atsumu lifts his eyes to spot a man walk in his direction, much better dressed than he is.

Atsumu doesn’t recognize the man at first, the distance between them enough to blur his features, so he doesn’t know why he’s addressing him. As he walks closer, however, the green of his eyes and light blonde hair spark a memory inside his brain, and he has to fight his expression so he doesn’t frown. He remembers the man even if he doesn’t remember the name, that smirk on his lips unmistakable. He’s a noble, he knows that much; a noble with wandering hands and a tendency to not take no for an answer.

“That’s me,” he voices his reply, and decides to put the book he’s borrowed aside, for a moment, so he can stand; he bows before the noble man, but not for long - he reserves his respect for those who actually earn it. “Forgive me, but I really dunno yer name.”

“Ah, that’s quite alright, wouldn’t expect you to,” the blonde man responds, now close enough that he doesn’t have to speak louder than a whisper, and something uncomfortable settles in Atsumu’s gut. “What are you doing here, do you work here now?”

“Ah, yeah.” Atsumu clears his throat and subtly looks around, heart starting to race as he finds that they’re completely alone. “Actually, I should prob’ly go help with the stuff for the ball, yeah, sorry...”

The dancer hopes the noble can’t pick up on his voice wavering; he doesn’t need him to know he’s scared. He crouches down to quickly pick up the book he put aside and starts to walk, having every intention to pass by this man and go hole up in his room once again, but he’s stopped with a hand on his wrist before he can walk much further.

“That won’t do.” The man’s voice seems deeper now, an underlying threat as Atsumu feels his grip tighten around his wrist. “There’s no brother here to protect you now, is there? And you look so pretty, too...” Atsumu is stunned into silence when he’s shoved back, a gasp falling from his lips when he makes contact with the tree. The man is too close, his eyes narrowing as he smirks and pushes his leg between Atsumu’s, unashamed. “Good thing I found you here, hm?”

Atsumu is a strong man; he can pride himself on such. He exercises frequently, both to make sure his body is in top condition for when he dances, and also to ensure he’s not helpless in a fight, if he gets into one. Still, he’s shocked by the way the man’s free hand hikes up the edge of his tunic up to his hip, exposing him against his will, and for a moment he’s frozen.

He feels almost like he’s outside of himself as the blonde man kisses his neck and palms at his groin, trying to arouse him. For a brief moment, he thinks this isn’t happening to himself. He’s strong and large and he’s always managed to escape these types of situations, despite how many years he’s been dancing. Yet, he’s always had his brother to help; he’s never been alone. The realization that he’s alone now terrifies him, and the feeling is enough to spur him into action.

He pushes the man back with all of his strength, and takes off in a run when he sees him stumble. He hopes it’s enough to let him escape, but he’s not quite as lucky; he feels his strong grip on his wrist again, nails digging into his skin, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t free himself while he attempts to keep running forward. He turns, aiming a kick at the man’s shin but doesn’t get there, pain flaring from his arm when he realizes that the nails digging into his skin have actually broken through it, and the man is pointing a small hidden blade at his neck.

“Tsk, tsk, you thought you could just leave me like this? Again?” The noble teases, and Atsumu feels his heart beat even faster, rattling inside his ribcage in fear. He’s hurting and scared, terrified that his life is about to end, but doesn’t stop fighting.

The second time he aims a kick, he hits the noble right in his knee, and the force of it is enough to throw him off balance. Atsumu registers the sharp pain on his neck as the man stumbles back and releases his arm, but doesn’t focus on it as he takes off running once more. His vision is blurry, and each large step he takes, he’s sure he’s going to collapse. He doesn’t stop, however; he knows if he does, that’ll be the end of him.

When he sees people, he doesn’t stop running either. He doesn’t recognize if they’re other nobles or the staff, doesn’t stop to check even as he hears gasps when they see him run by. His first instinct is to find his brother, as it always has been when one of them is in trouble, but his head is too messy for him to remember the path to the kitchens. Instead, his feet carry him to the throne room as if on instinct, knowing that’s where he’ll find the King, and as he bursts in, he finally, finally, caves in, stumbling to his knees as he breathes heavily.

“What the— TsumTsum?”

Atsumu blinks, and the tears pooling in his eyes begin their descent down his cheeks. He looks up to find Bokuto standing beside the throne, staring at him wide-eyed. The dancer can feel other eyes on him, both nobles and staff eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t look at any of them. His glistening brown eyes focus only on his King, and he can see, even with the distance between them, the way King Sakusa’s eyes harden at the sight of him.

“Atsumu.” The man calls his name only once before he stands, and before long he’s kneeling in front of the dancer, his usually stoic expression displaying all the rage he feels.

Atsumu sees him look at his neck, and slowly assess the damage there; he allows him to continue to peruse his body, finding the bloody scratches on his arm as well, and hissing when he spots them. He doesn’t say a thing, unable to find the words to explain his sudden appearance; he doesn’t know what he can say, not with everyone watching. If they were in the intimacy of their room, he’d beg the man to hold him and keep calling him by what the King has deemed as a stupid nickname, despite the fact Atsumu can tell he smiles whenever he uses it.

“Atsumu. Who did this to you?” The King’s voice is quiet, now; he’s talking to Atsumu, only, not wanting anyone around to hear. “You can tell me, it’s alright. You’re not in trouble.”

“Your Majesty.” Atsumu whimpers at the sound of that voice filling the room once again, and can’t help the way his hand reaches for the King’s own as he turns his head to the door. There, he finds the blonde noble from before, leaning against one of the guards with a storm of an expression on his face. “Forgive the intrusion, but your servant needs to be punished severely.”

“My serva— You mean Atsumu?” The King allows Atsumu to hold his hand between them, hidden from the sight of the man by the door.

“Yes. That dirtbag tried to rob me. Kicked me when I realized it, ran off before I could catch him myself.”

“Ah, did he now? I imagine you were the one to inflict these wounds on him, then.” Atsumu watches the change in the King’s eyes, the clouds that promise a thunderstorm slowly crawling over the black of his irises.

“It was all I could do to defend myself, Your Highness,” the nobleman says, protecting his story with all that he has.

Atsumu can hear the whispers around him, and begins to feel nervous; he wonders if the rage simmering inside the King’s eyes is directed at him, if he believes the words this nobleman is spewing, if he’s going to be punished as the man is requesting. He trembles, can’t help it, and tries to ready himself for what’s to come; the King only squeezes his hand lightly.

“Bokuto-san, please come get Atsumu.” The dancer allows himself to be pulled to his feet, most of his weight being carried by the head of the royal guard. “Sit him on my throne for the time being,” the King orders, and an eerie sort of silence falls upon the room as he stands.

Atsumu sits where he’s told to, and feels Bokuto press a rag against his neck; there’s blood on his hands, Atsumu recognizes, and the book he is holding is stained with the crimson liquid as well. He hears the familiar sound of a sword being drawn and looks away from it, eyes wide as he watches the King brandish a long blade, shining brightly and reflecting the sun that falls into the room.

“So what you’re telling me is,” the King begins, voice booming across the room as he steps towards the nobleman, “that Miya Atsumu, who has access to anything he wishes inside this castle, decided to rob you out of nowhere today?” He questions, giving a short order for the guard that was helping the nobleman stand to step away from the man. “Is that right?”

“Y-yes, your Majesty, that is what happened.” There’s a stutter in the nobleman’s voice, and Atsumu can see, even from where he sits, the flicker of terror in his eyes when the King is close enough to him that he can strike him down, if he so wishes. “I believe he may have recognized me from when he performed in town, and thought it’d be easy.”

“Ah. So he’s danced for you before, then.”

Atsumu watches in a daze as the King steps even closer, quickly planting himself behind the nobleman by the door, his sword held to his throat, his other hand sharply tugging the man’s head back by the hair. He holds his breath, unable to hear the words he says to the man as he whispers them in his ear, but he sees the nobleman’s green eyes widen in terror with each moment that passes.

“Atsumu,” the King calls after a few minutes have passed; brown eyes meet black, and Atsumu feels his heartbeat settle. “It’s your decision. I can end him right here for putting his hands on you, or I can throw him in the dungeons to be dealt with later. Which would you prefer?”

“Y-your Highness! I’m sorry, I am, please have mercy on me, I didn’t know he was yours, I didn’t mean to take something that belongs to you, please, please—.”

“Quiet!” The King’s voice is the loudest Atsumu has ever heard it, the shout being enough to bring the man he’s still holding to a whimper. The dancer feels a sick sense of satisfaction when he notices his pants darken in color as he wets himself. “You’re disgusting. Whether he is mine or not, you have no right to touch him, not unless he asked you to.” The King’s blade presses closer to the nobleman’s neck, and he looks at Atsumu once more. “Atsu. Your decision, please?”

Atsumu considers it for a moment. He’s never been one to enjoy violence for the sake of it, avoiding fights that broke around him; he’s never enjoyed the wars that roll over the country, and has hated cleaning the blood from the streets when he encounters it. Still, as he watches the King hold his sword to the man’s neck, he comes to a realization - he wants to watch him die. It’s a dark feeling that swirls within him, consuming his sense of morality, and he allows himself to give into it for the time being.

“Kill him,” he whispers, feeling Bokuto’s hand fall on his shoulder and give it a squeeze; he realizes he spoke too low, and clears his throat. “Kill him,” he repeats, loud enough to be heard across the room, where the King stands with his blade to the man’s throat.

“You can look away now, TsumTsum,” Bokuto says from beside him, having known him long enough to know he despises the sight of blood.

“As you wish,” the King says simply, and Atsumu doesn’t look away. He watches the sharp blade slide over the offender’s neck, coming off red as the liquid pours out of him. The King drops him to the floor in an instant, offering his sword to a guard standing by, and addresses the room once more. “Let this be a warning. I will not tolerate any sort of harm towards Atsumu,” he pauses for a moment, and then adds, “or anyone else in my staff. I will have anyone who breaks this rule beheaded without hesitation.”

The room is quiet as the King steps over the dying man at his feet, striding back to his throne. Atsumu stands when he reaches him, thinking the King wants to sit once more, as he was before, but instead his hand is taken.

“Let’s go,” he whispers comfortingly, and Atsumu can only follow as he’s guided to the exit.

He realizes that the guards have already removed the body from in front of it and there’s servants cleaning the floor already, and is glad for it; he isn’t sure he would’ve been able to hold his breakfast in if he’d seen the dying man up close. He’s quiet as he walks after the King, their hands intertwined as he’s led back to where he knows the infirmary is. When they reach it, they find the medic inside, flipping through pages on a book Atsumu is sure he wrote himself.

“Oh, whatever happened to you?” The silver-haired man has a kind expression, the mole under his left eye twitching as he frowns. “Let’s clean you up and make sure it’s not too deep,” he offers.

Atsumu had expected the King to leave, but he stays by his side, continuing to hold his hand as the medic checks his wounds. He uses a strong-smelling liquid to swipe over them and Atsumu hisses, his fingers squeezing over the King’s as it burns, but it’s momentary. Soon, he has bandages over the scratches on his arms and the cut on his neck, none deemed too deep to require further attention, and they’re up and walking away.

“Atsumu,” the King breaks the silence between them, but the dancer can’t look at his face. The embarrassment that comes from realizing how weak he is, so much that he couldn’t even fend off a single overbearing man on his own, is starting to sink in. “Atsu, look at me.”

They stop in the middle of one of the hallways, and Atsumu feels the King’s free hand at his jaw, tilting his head upwards until he has no choice but to look into his face. He’s wearing a concerned expression, unlike any Atsumu has seen on him before, and it’s almost too kind, almost too much. He feels his chest squeeze painfully, and then there are tears streaming down his face once again.

“I’m sorry, Omi-kun,” he mumbles, breaking his gaze away from the King’s face to look down at his free hand instead, watching the tears drip down onto it. “He caught me alone, I was just outside enjoyin’ the sun, took a book with me to read an’ everythin’, and then he was there and he tried to- he tried to touch me, an’ I told him no before, but back then Samu was there and pulled ‘im off, but I was alone today an’ I couldn’t- I couldn’t-.”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault,” the King’s voice is soft, and the hand on his jaw is kind, thumb swiping gently at his tears. “You did well running to me, Atsu. I’ll keep you safe from here on out. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe today,” he continues to whisper.

Atsumu can’t help the soft sob that rips through his chest as he falls into the King’s arms, allowing him to hold him upright. His hands rest against the King’s chest, and he knows he shouldn’t be so vulnerable, but the King has a way of pulling out of him everything he’s been keeping to himself for so long.

His insecurities, his weaknesses - Sakusa manages to weave them out of his body and doesn’t judge Atsumu for it; instead, he takes them on as a challenge, dueling them to a match where he’s the sole winner. He’s done it a few times already, when Atsumu questions his decision to keep him, instead of any of the other beautiful dancers in their kingdom; this is just another stepping stone, for him.

“What book were you reading?” The King asks after a while, when Atsumu’s sobs have faded and his tears have stopped falling. They’re still holding onto each other in this empty hallway, and Atsumu is sure, now, that he is not imagining the way the King’s fingers brush through the locks of his hair.

“Oh, it’s just... an old storybook ma used to read to Samu an’ I,” the dancer replies in a whisper, face still smushed into the King’s shoulder as he mumbles the title.

“Ah, that’s one of my favorites.” Atsumu can’t help the small smile at the offered information; he always enjoys learning a little more about his King. “We’ll read it together when we lay down tonight. Does that sound good?”

Atsumu doesn’t think about how the pages must be stained with his blood, or about the fact he has no idea where he left it. Atsumu doesn’t think about how domestic of an act it is to do something besides have sex or sleep together in the same bed. He doesn’t think about anything but how good it sounds to him to be able to just spend some time with his King like that, after the day he’s had.

“Sounds perfect, Omi-Kun.”


End file.
